Money Can't Buy Everything
by FireEdge
Summary: Post FE10. When Heather finds out that her dying mother's last wish is for her to find a man, the rogue is at a loss. How could SHE ever fall in love with a man? Instead, she decides to hire one. VolkeHeather. Oneshot. For Fire Emblem Mew Mew's challenge.


Wow, have I been on a writing spree or what? This was the fourth thing I wrote in the span of two days. Anyway, this one-shot is for Fire Emblem Mew Mew's challenge, which was to write a story about Heather falling in love with a man (revolving around the theme of 'money'). However, that was just a coincidence, since I was planning on writing this anyway, but I thought: "What the hey, why not enter it?" It _isn't_ a coincidence, however, that I started to like the VolkeHeather pairing because of FEMM, so kudos to her! Anyway, enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fire Emblem.

**Money Can't Buy Everything**

Heather closed the front door and slowly walked over to the table that sat in the middle of her home. Sitting down, she buried her hands into her blonde locks. Her fingers curled into fists and she was angry enough that she could rip out her own hair. This was ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! It had been three month since the battle with Ashera. The world had been restored to normal, and Heather had returned to her village and her sick mother, her pockets lined with riches. Finally, she had had enough money to pay for the medical treatment that her mother had so sorely needed.

However, having the money hadn't been enough. Of all the medicine that she'd purchased in hopes of curing her mother, none of them had had any effect. She'd gone to Melior to seek the most skilled healers and doctors. She'd even sought out strange herbalists that secluded themselves in huts in the mountains. None of her attempts had worked, and now her mother's health was worsening, and the gold was beginning to run low...

"H...Heather..." her mother called weakly, her voice like the flutter of a bird's wings.

The rogue quickly swiped at the tears that were beginning to form and inhaled deeply, composing herself before standing up. What was she doing? She couldn't give up yet.

"Coming, Mother," she replied. "Did you need something? Some water, or soup?"

"N...No... Come here... please..."

Striding over to her bedside, Heather sat down on the stool there and leaned her head closer so that her mother wouldn't have to strain her voice.

"Yes, Mother, what is it?"

"I... I know that... I won't—" Her mother was interrupted as she broke into a coughing fit. Heather scrambled to her feet and ran into their kitchen to fetch the pitcher of water. Returning with a cup and the pitcher, she poured her mother some water and made her drink it slowly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes... Much better. I suppose that... my throat was dry," she answered with a sheepish grin.

"Don't you grin like that! You gave me such a scare!" Heather scolded, setting the pitcher down on the bedside table. "... Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes," her mother replied with another soft smile.

"Are you sure? Your face looks pale... There's nothing I can get you?"

"Actually, there was something I wanted to ask of you."

"What is it?" the rogue asked, grasping her mother's hands. The skin felt papery beneath her own.

"Heather, dear, I don't... I don't think that I will last much longer," she started.

Heather opened her mouth to protest, but her mother silenced her with a commanding look. Pressing her lips together, she frowned, but allowed her mother to continue.

"I know that you've been trying your hardest to find me a cure, but I want you to give up now."

"NO!" Heather exclaimed, unable to keep her mouth shut any longer.

"Please, Heather, let me finish," her mother chided lightly. "I've long come to terms with my illness. I am ready to leave this world, whenever that may be. However, before I go, I would like to know that my only daughter will be well-off and happy."

"But I AM happy! And I AM well-off! You know the money I brought home? I can get more. I just want to see you get better," Heather retorted desperately. She didn't like the tone of finality that her mother's speech was taking. She sounded like she was giving up. She couldn't give up. Not yet.

"Heather, what I meant was that I don't want to leave this world knowing that I would have left you all alone."

"What do you mean?" the rogue asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I know that you have friends, but not once have you brought home a boy. I would feel so much better if I knew that you had found a good man to take care of you," her mother replied.

"I can take care of myself, Mother. I don't need anyone, let alone a man," she said flatly. Men were pathetic creatures. They whined, had no brains and were dirty. No, they were much too unrefined for her. If she wanted someone to keep company with in the future, she'd much rather find a nice female companion.

"Heather, you say that now, because you're young—"

"I'm twenty-four, Mother. Hardly a chickling."

"But one day, in a few years perhaps, you'll realize that being alone isn't so wonderful. For example, if I didn't have you, I don't know how I would have lived," her mother finished. One of her hands caressed Heather's cheek tenderly.

"I think I'll be fine, Mother. I'll manage. You should just worry about getting better," she replied instead, standing up slowly.

"Please, Heather... Consider what I said."

"... I will."

Turning around, the blonde woman left the room and shut the door carefully. She was torn. As much as she didn't want to admit that her mother was right, she knew as well as anyone that the older woman did not have a lot of time left. Though her mother had put on a brave face, Heather could see that she was in pain. During their entire conversation, her mother's face had been pinched and her eyes strained at the corners. However, though she wanted to make her mother as happy as possible, she wasn't sure that she could fulfill her final request.

Men being disgusting, callous beings in general (though she had to admit that there were a FEW exceptions—General Ike for example) was not the sole reason why she refused to consort with them. She was surprised that her mother didn't realize it herself, but maybe she was still in denial... Nearly ten years ago, Heather's father had left them. He'd simply packed up his things and walked out of their house and out of their life.

He had left them for another woman. Apparently he'd fallen in love with her and they'd eloped somewhere (to the pits of hell, she hoped). As if that weren't bad enough, he'd also taken all of their money. He'd abandoned them and left them with nothing to survive on. Soon after he left, her mother had worked her hands to the bone to try and make a living. However, the stress had been too much. One day, her mother had collapsed and ever since, she'd been ill. That was also about the time Heather had started to steal.

It was also around then that she'd developed her revulsion towards men. They were vile, backstabbing monsters. Why else would they have abandoned their wife and child, left them with nothing but scraps to eat? It wasn't just her father, either. The husband of the family down the road beat his wife and even his children sometimes suffered from his alcoholic rages. The church minister took money out of the donation plate for himself. Lord Tellona's son, who lived in his father's mansion on the outskirts of the village, was a lewd young man who harassed the local girls. The list went on and on...

No, she didn't think she could ever fall in love with a man.

* * *

Once again, Heather found herself seated at their shabby wooden table. This time, her face was buried in her hands. She was trying to force herself not to cry. She was a grown woman, for goodness' sake! However, the tears could not be held back and little by little they pushed past her barriers, wetting her hands and she felt a lump form in her throat.

Her mother had coughed up blood today and she was even paler than usual. She could barely drink any water and by lunch had given up on eating anything at all; it had just been too hard. Now, she could hear her mother's laboured breaths as she slept fitfully in the next room. Just before she had fallen asleep, her mother had told her again that she only wished for her to find a man. Her final wish was to see her daughter married.

This time, Heather's answer had come out differently. Seeing her mother like that, so frail and her face so beseeching, she couldn't openly reject her. Instead she had said: "I'll try". However, the rogue knew that this was impossible. She could try all she wanted, but she would never love, let alone marry, a man. No, she would head into the capitol tomorrow and seek out another healer. It'd been a while since she'd gone to Melior anyway. Maybe this time around, she'd find something that would help her mother. She could also visit Nephenee while she was there...

* * *

"... and I don't know what to do," Heather finally said, finishing her story.

Across from her, Nephenee sat with a confounded look on her face, her head tilted slightly to one side. Heather almost wanted to hug her, she looked so cute. However, she restrained herself since she knew that the other young woman was uncomfortable with such affectionate actions.

"Well, umm... I'm real sorry 'bout yer Ma, Heather," Nephenee finally said slowly, her mouth setting into a sad frown. "But I dunno where else ya can find a proper an' good healer. I... I think ya got 'em all already..."

"Oh..." Heather's face fell. Really, though, she hadn't been expecting anything else. Deep down, she had known all along that there wouldn't be any more help in Melior. Still, she felt a little better now that she had told her friend her worries. "Thanks for listening, anyway, Nephenee."

"N-No problem, Heather! Ya know ya can count on me if yer feelin' down an' all," she replied. Then something seemed to come to Nephenee. Her brows drew down in sudden thought and then her expression brightened. "Oh! I jus' had an idea!"

"Did you remember that a new herbalist just moved into town?"

"No! 'Bout yer other problem!" Nephenee replied, shaking her head.

"What other problem?" asked Heather, confused.

"Ya know, 'bout yer Ma wantin' ya to find a man."

"... That's... that's not a problem, Nephenee. As much as I want to make my mother happy, me finding a man isn't happening. Ever."

"I know, that's why I said I knew how to fix it," she answered with a small smile. "Ya jus' have to pretend. 'Bout finding a man. I mean, you're good at all that sneakin' around and such, so I figured that it'd be easy for ya to... ya know, fake it."

Heather stared blankly at the country girl in front of her. Her brain was ticking slowly, trying to process the idea. Then, she realized that it _could_ work. Since there wasn't any medicine that she could buy, she could just pay off some sucker to pretend to be her beau for a few days. She could show him off to her mother, then send him packing and say that he was too busy to visit anymore after that. Then her mother would be satisfied and maybe she would start worrying about her own health and fight back, instead of spouting nonsense.

"Oh, Nephenee, you're brilliant! I don't know how I didn't think of that myself! I didn't realize you could be so... cunning! Oh, can I just give you a hug?"

Without waiting for an answer, Heather leaned over the table and gave the girl a quick embrace. Nephenee flushed with embarrassment.

"I-It was nothin', Heather. I kinda jus' heard it from Calill. She was sayin' it to some guy at the inn and stuff..."

"Well, either way, you still gave me the idea, so let's just leave it at that. How about we go grab something to drink at Calill's, actually? I haven't stopped by to say 'hi' yet and maybe I can find a guy there who's willing to pretend to be my man," Heather said, grinning. Things were finally starting to look up.

* * *

"Oh, well, look who it is!" Calill exclaimed as the two young women walked into the inn.

"Long time, no see, Calill. You're looking as gorgeous as ever," Heather returned, taking a seat at the bar. "Busy today, isn't' it?"

The inn was indeed crowded, nearly every table was full and only a few seats at the bar remained empty.

"Well, better than most days. I suppose it's because it's lunchtime," the sage said offhandedly as she continued to polish a glass. Then, her sharp blue eyes flickered as she caught sight of something. "Nephenee, what in the world are you looking at?"

"N-Nothin'!" the young woman stammered, her head whipping around to face Calill, her face flushing pink.

"No_thing_, not _nothin'_. Really, after all these years..." Calill trailed off as her mouth spread into a devious smile. "Oh, I see."

"See what?" Heather and Nephenee asked at the same time, one with curiosity, one with panic.

"GEOFFREY!" Calill called instead. The aqua-haired man raised his head at the sound of his name and stood as she beckoned him over.

"Ohhh," Heather said, as she watched Nephenee's reaction with great interest. The other young woman had stiffened completely and her face had turned pale. Well, she supposed that General Geoffrey was all right, as far as men were concerned.

"You called, Calill?" the man asked with a light smile as he seated himself on the free bar stool on Heather's other side.

"Oh, I just thought you'd like to say 'hello' to Heather. You remember her, don't you?" Calill replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, grinning all the while.

"Ah! How do you do, Miss Heather? I do indeed remember you. You worked for Lucia quite a bit during the... ah, civil unrest, I believe?" Geoffrey asked as he turned to greet her.

"Yes, I did. I'm honoured that you remembered. And how is Lady Lucia and the Queen?" Heather replied with a genuine smile. It was nice to know that there were _some_ men in the world that weren't complete scum. Not that it mattered much to her anyway. It was just nice to know that Nephenee hadn't fallen for an ass.

"They are doing quite well. Perhaps if you are staying, you would like to pay them a visit...?"

"No, no, I won't be in town long. My mother is ill, you see..."

"My condolences."

Heather then took this moment to peek over at Nephenee, seated on her other side. The halberdier had let her hair fall like a curtain between them, to hide her face and her shoulders were hunched forward, obviously in an attempt to make herself seem smaller.

"Nephenee, sweetie, you don't look so well. Whatever's the matter?" she asked, smirking and giving Calill a sly wink.

"Why, you _are_ pale! Maybe you should go home and lie down," Calill added. "Geoffrey, dear, why don't you walk Nephenee back? Just in case she faints or collapses or something."

"N-N-NO! I-I'm fine!" the green-haired woman exclaimed, her eyes widening in panic and her face flushing red.

The rogue then pressed her wrist against Nephenee's forehead.

"Oh no, you're not. I think you're feeling a bit warm." From the corner of her eye, she could see that Geoffrey had stood up, a concerned look on his face.

"Miss Nephenee, allow me to escort you home," he said, striding to the halberdier's side. "You look rather flushed. We have training drills tomorrow, and you did promise the trainees that you would practice with them. It would certainly benefit no one if you should become ill. You must rest today so that you will feel better tomorrow."

"I-I-I..." Nephenee's eyes were nearly bugging out of her head now and she really _did_ look like she might pass out. Geoffrey's frown deepened and with a quick 'Pardon me', he gently took Nephenee's arm and half-escorted, half-dragged her out of the inn.

As soon as they were out the door, Heather burst into laughter. Nephenee's face had been utterly priceless.

"Well, you look like you've just had five years taken off," Calill commented as Heather finally calmed down.

"Do I?" the rogue asked wistfully. "Well... things aren't going too well with my mother. I'm just worried that... well... you know."

"Stay strong, my dear. You'll pull through, somehow," the other woman replied kindly. "Is there anything you'd like? On the house."

"Actually... I was wondering if you knew where I could hire a man," Heather answered after a moment of thought.

"A mercenary? Well, I'm sure you could head over to the guild down the—"

"No, I mean, actually hire a man. My mother's last wish is to see me settle down, and I figured that I might as well humour her some. Pretend that I found a guy that I like, you know?" she replied.

"Well now, why does that notion sound familiar...?" Calill murmured, perplexed. "Well, either way, I'm not too sure what to say... I suppose the idea could work, but I'm not sure who you could approach to do that. Mercenaries aren't usually smart or smooth enough to fake something like that... Well, excluding the Greil Mercenaries, but they are a rather strange bunch to begin with. But I suppose it still wouldn't hurt to check out the guild—Ah! Wait, I have it!"

"Spit it out, then!"

"He's a bit... pricey, and I don't know if he takes on these kinds of jobs, but he is well... He's not bad to look at and he's very skilled, so maybe he could pull it off..." she said slowly.

"Money's not an issue, Calill. Don't you know who you're talking to?" Heather chuckled. Now that she thought about it, it'd been a long time since she had laughed so much.

"All right, come back tonight and I'll arrange for you two to meet. I don't know how it'll go, but if worse comes to worse, maybe he can direct you to someone else."

"Thanks, Calill. I'll be back later, then."

* * *

Heather blinked and shook her head, unable to believe her eyes.

"Are you _sure_ about this?" she hissed to Calill, throwing another glance at the man who sat in the corner, arms crossed and legs propped on the table, a pipe in his mouth.

"He's one of the best hired professionals I know," Calill answered with a shrug.

"I'm looking for a fake lover, not a hit man!"

"That's not his only profession. Bastian tells me that he is very skilled at information gathering, so that means that he's good at disguising himself, correct? Go on! He won't charge to talk... I think."

Heather sighed. Well, she'd come this far. She supposed that she could _talk_ to him at least. Taking in a deep breath, she walked over to his table and sat down in the chair opposite him, smiling sweetly to hide her nerves. She had seen this man at work before. He was an efficient and ruthless killer. There was no way he could pull off a job like this...

"Well?" Volke asked, after a minute had passed, taking his pipe out of his mouth.

The blonde rogue shook her head. She had been stunned for a moment, since he appeared so different. For one, he wasn't dressed as he had been the last time she'd seen him. He was wearing a large-collared jacket, loose trousers and boots. A big change, she thought, from his flowing scarves and long overcoat. In fact, she thought that she could go as far as to say that he looked normal.

Though the most astonishing fact of all was that his face was uncovered, and for the first time, Heather had the opportunity to see it. His nose was more prominent than she'd originally thought and his chin squarer, covered with stubble. She had to admit that Calill was right; he definitely wasn't too hard on the eyes, in a rugged kind of way.

"Er... Has Calill told you anything, yet?" she asked, feeling very nervous again. Despite his looks, the man gave her the creeps, maybe it was because she'd seen how ruthlessly and mechanically he killed the enemy.

"Just that there was a young woman looking for someone skilled at concealment," he replied.

Heather groaned inwardly. Couldn't Calill have just told him straight up what she needed so she wouldn't have had to deal with him? He was bound to say 'no', anyway, and it would've saved her the embarrassment of asking.

"Ahem, well, that's... partially correct," she started. "I'm actually looking to hire... well, I don't think that this is your kind of thing, but if you could point me to someone whose it is... Anyway, I'm in need of a pretend... partner. In the most intimate sense of the word."

To her dismay, Heather felt her cheeks colour. This would've been a great idea if she were dealing with some bumbling oaf of a boy who tripped over his feet at the sight of beautiful women, but in the presence of this hardened, older man... well, she felt ridiculous.

_Ugh, just say 'No, thanks' and get this over with and spare me any more agony!_ Heather inwardly shrieked.

"... Interesting proposition. I can't say I've ever received one like it before," Volke answered, his expression still as placid as ever. "Might I ask why you are looking for someone to play that role?"

"... Ah... To... To fool my mother," she replied lamely. Why did she even say that? Not she felt like even more of an idiot... Wait, why was he asking? Was he seriously considering it?! "Anyway, thanks for listening to the offer, but I don't want to waste any more of your time—"

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," he interrupted, lighting his pipe again with a match that he seemed to have pulled out of thin air.

"What?"

"It's been rather slow, of late. Surprisingly. And since this is something that I haven't done before, it would be good experience; adds to my repertoire, if you know what I mean. If you're willing to pay the price, I'll get the job done."

Heather stared at the man across from her, baffled. Did he just actually... _agree_ to the job? This assassin, that had worked for the most prestigious nobles and Ike himself, had just accepted to be her fake lover?

"... Seriously?" she said instead.

"Five thousand."

The mention of money snapped her out of her surprise.

"I'll give you half now, and if you perform to my satisfaction, I'll pay you the rest. If not, well... we'll discuss that later," she replied.

"Sounds fine to me. There won't be a need to discuss anything later, though. I'll get the job done," Volke answered, leaning back on his chair and puffing on his pipe. "When do I start?"

* * *

"I'm back, Mother," Heather said as she entered her mother's room and knelt by her bed.

The older woman smiled weakly and caressed her cheek.

"How was the capitol?"

"Well, good and bad. Bad, because I couldn't find any more medicine that we haven't already tried. Good, because I did have a chance to visit Nephenee and Calill, you know, the two friends I made during that whole outbreak with Ludveck," she replied with a smile.

"That's wonderful. I'm glad that you enjoyed yourself. It must have been a nice change from nursing boring ol' me," said her mother lightly, returning her smile. "So, what did you do there?"

"I visited Nephenee first and we went around looking for any new healers in town. Then we went over to Calill's inn and played with her daughter. She's a cutie-pie," Heather started off, lying through her teeth. Taking in a deep breath, she prepared herself for the biggest lie of all. "And, um, well, at dinner, Calill invited some other guests, you know, so there was a big group of us. Some of the Crimean Royal Knights were there and a few of Calill's random friends."

"That sounds nice—Ah! Heather, are you blushing?"

"N-No!" the rogue quickly denied, but then realized that she was. What a great time to recall her embarrassing meeting with Volke. "I mean..."

Her mother's face suddenly lit up in understanding. Heather wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry.

"Oh, Heather! Who is he?!"

"Uh, well, don't get your hopes too high. There's nothing really going on between us, we just talked some at dinner and we had a few drinks together afterwards," Heather said quickly. She couldn't rush it, or it would sound too fake...

"What's his name?" her mother asked, almost as if she hadn't heard what she'd said.

"Er, it's Volke. His name's Volke. He, ah, he works for Count Fayre, as a messenger and such," she replied.

"And what is he like?" the other woman continued to prompt. It was a good thing, too. It was so much easier answering questions rather than making up a story as she went.

"He's... well... He's..." Heather was at a loss for words. She had no idea what Volke was like—nor what kind of persona he might assume for this task. Then she remembered what he'd told her before they had parted at Calill's inn. "Umm, well, maybe you should just meet him yourself? He said that he had some business to take care of for Count Fayre, so he'd be coming down here in the next few days. He'll be staying at Lord Tellona's place, so I could pop by and bring him over so you two could meet..."

"That would be wonderful! Heather, I'm so happy that you're making an effort to start a relationship."

"Uh, well... I really thought about what you said, and thought I'd give it a go. I mean, what have I got to lose, right?" she replied with a rather non-committal smile.

* * *

The rogue felt rather uncomfortable as she walked towards Lord Tellona's manse. She had been there countless times, but they had always been under the darkness of night... to steal, or seduce one of the male servants to steal _for_ her. Luckily, Volke had told her to go through the servant's entrance. She couldn't imagine what would happen if she had to use the front door.

The servant's entrance was open and on the other side of the threshold, she heard pots and pans clanging and loud voices. It seemed that the kitchen was nearby. Stepping into the building, Heather made her way down the corridor, immediately feeling the steam from the clay ovens and smoke from the fires along with the tantalizing scent of cooking food. Servants were running up and down the hall, some with parcels and other odds and ends, others with platters of food.

She sidestepped just in time to avoid a big, shirtless man carrying a large wicker basket on his shoulders and she slinked closer to the walls. Now, where to next? He hadn't really specified where she was supposed to meet him...

"Hey, haven't seen _you_ 'round here before," a voice near her said.

Whipping around, she saw a young cook's aide. He came up to her and leaned on the wall beside her, smiling crookedly.

_Ugh, he's going to hit on me_, she thought to herself, taking care not to grimace. _Oh well, maybe I can find out where Volke is from this sucker_.

"Well, I don't work here, so that's probably why," she replied, with a honeyed smile.

"You really shouldn't be here, then, should you?" the servant said, his grin widening, encouraged by her smile and fluttering eyelashes.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone," Heather answered.

"Oh? Why don't we just have some fun with me, instead? I'm got a break in five min—"

"Excuse me, but what do you think you're doing?" a deep, gruff voice interrupted.

"Hey, buddy, I'm a little busy here—Oof!"

Heather's brows raised in surprise. Volke, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, shoved the cook's aide away from her. The latter sprawled onto the floor with an impressive 'thud'.

"What was that for?! You wanna fight?" the servant demanded angrily, on his feet again and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform.

"No, I just want you to stay away from my girl," Volke replied with a cold sneer.

Before she could react, his arm had snaked around her waist and she was pressed against his body. He was pleasantly warm and he smelled... smoky. A second later, she regained her breath, and ignoring how her head suddenly felt a little dizzy, she turned to face the servant.

"Sorry, this is who I was looking for," she said with another smile.

"C'mon, let's go," Volke added, steering her towards the exit, his arm still around her waist.

"Hey! We're not finished here, you pompous—"

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Volke give the other man a rude hand gesture before they were through the door and he kicked over a stack of crates. They fell across the threshold and she heard the poor cook's aide swear as he stumbled over them. They were already walking down the path when she heard him yell after them.

They continued down the road in silence, until Heather realized that he had not removed his arm from around her. She felt a small rush of heat rise up her neck.

"You can let go, now, you know," she snapped.

Volke raised an eyebrow as he turned his gaze onto her. She gulped. His eyes held a smothering intensity that made her feel light-headed. Everything about this man reminded her of fire... smoke... Maybe that was why he was called the Fireman, and why she felt as if she were suffocating every time she looked at him.

"You realize that if anything's going to ruin this façade, it's your behaviour towards me," he remarked pointedly, his arm not budging an inch.

"Excuse me?" she demanded, stopping short. However, he wasn't fazed and seemed to flow to a standstill without missing a step.

"If you can't pretend to be comfortable with being close to me, we'll never pass off as a couple... At least you didn't screw up back there with that servant."

"W-What do you mean?"

"There was a reason why I told you to meet me there. I waited until one of men made a pass at you so that I could make a show of how we're together. I'm staying at the manor for a week, so they'll recognize me soon and then the rumours will spread. Our relationship will seem more real if other people can attest to it being true," he answered.

"... Well, I suppose that my money hasn't gone to waste after all," she said, looking away from his face. This whole plan hadn't been so complicated in _her_ mind.

* * *

Heather couldn't help but smile as she poured some hot water into the teapot. It had been so long since she'd heard her mother laugh so heartily. Looking over her shoulder and through the open door of her mother's bedroom, she saw Volke seated on a stool, leaning against the bed near her mother's feet. She didn't know which was more amazing, the fact that her mother had believed their charade, or how well Volke was pulling it off.

She had thought that the assassin was incapable of showing any sort of emotion. Yet, three days ago, when he'd first met her mother, he had smiled. She'd never seen him smile before, so she couldn't compare it with a genuine one, but it had _looked _real. In fact, he had acted like a rather normal beorc. He introduced himself politely as the Count of Fayre's right-hand man and had proceeded to tell the story of how the two of them had met, adding in details that Heather would've never dreamt up, and laughing all the while. He had even thrown in a few side-long glances at her all throughout the conversation.

Now, he was chatting with her mother as if they were old friends. As she entered the room with the tea for her mother, Volke had pulled out his pipe and was blowing smoke rings to entertain them.

"Well, I'd better get going, now. I promised Lord Tellona that I would join him for supper," said Volke suddenly, standing up. She hadn't noticed how much time had passed. The sky outside was a deep orange and she could see the sun starting to set. "If you'll excuse me..."

"Oh yes, I would not like you to be late. Thank you for visiting again, Volke," her mother replied.

"I'll see you out," Heather added, standing up as well.

She walked him to the front door and opened it for him, allowing him to step out before her. However, as he stepped over the threshold, he paused.

"Did you forget something?" she asked as he turned around.

He seemed to be looking at something behind her, and then his eyes flickered down to meet hers. His red orbs, smouldering and smoky, entranced her. It was like looking into the deepest ruby, except that they held a very dangerous, very human glint. Despite the fact that her brain was telling her it was a bad idea, she felt drawn in. She hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until he spoke.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Suddenly, one of his arms shot out and encircled her waist, pulling her against his torso, and his other hand buried itself into her hair. His rough lips met hers, the stubble on his face scraping her cheeks, as she let out a startled gasp. She wanted to push him off in revulsion, but at the same time she was curious. A part of her wanted to know how this man, whose soul seemed to consist of a pit of fire, tasted like. But then, like smoke, he slipped away before she could grasp it.

* * *

"Well, just once more, Volke. After this, you'll be 'heading home' and I'll give you the rest of your pay," Heather said as they neared her home. As her house came into sight, she stopped walking. "Just so you know, I was very... pleased... with your performance this past week. After this visit, I'll give you the rest of the five thousand and you can go on your way."

"Mmm," he grunted as they started to walk again.

Heather snuck a glance at the man beside her. It was funny that she didn't seem to mind him so much anymore. Even though she knew that it was a front, she felt an odd twinge in her chest every time he put on that false, smiling mask. Every morning this week, she'd woken up feeling eager to see him. She tried to convince herself that she was only happy that her plan was going so well, but then she would recall that kiss.

She could feel her face flush again. That had been the only time he'd gone so far, and now it was the last day that he would be here. He probably wouldn't try to kiss her again, and she felt a twinge of disappointment. He had been such a good kisser... No! She wasn't disappointed. She was _glad_ that it wouldn't happen again. In fact, she was sure that that would be the first and last time she would kiss a man.

_Because you probably won't find a better one? Too bad he's a fake, too, just like all men,_ a voice in the back of her mind laughed. She ground her teeth together, mentally locking away the voice.

Entering the house, she called out a greeting to her mother. When there was no answer, she frowned. Was she still sleeping?

Quickly striding to her mother's bedroom, she shoved the door open and saw that her mother was indeed still asleep, but a piece of paper was clutched in her hand.

"What's she holding?" Heather muttered to herself as she went up to her mother's resting form and reached for the paper.

"Stop," Volke commanded suddenly.

Heather looked over her shoulder at him. His face was as expressionless as ever, but he was staring at her mother intently.

"What is it?"

"... She's dead..." he stated.

She felt as if she'd been kicked in the gut. The air wouldn't reach her lungs, and then she felt her knees shake. Her legs collapsed underneath her and she crumpled to the floor, her blue eyes staring at her mother's body. Indeed, she seemed too still.

Heather reached out a shaking hand towards her mother and touched her arm. It was cold. Almost automatically, she unclasped her mother's unmoving fingers and folded open the rather creased paper.

_My dearest Heather,_

_I can feel my strength slowly slipping away. I don't know how many more days, or hours, I have to live. So I've decided to write this letter for you, which I will always hold should you not be here when I pass on. _

_I just want you to know that I love you and will continue to watch over you always. I also want to tell you that I know that you and that man, Volke, are not really in a relationship. You silly girl, I'm your mother, of course I saw through your act. However, I'm still happy that you tried so hard to give me what I wanted most. He seems like a good man, nonetheless, and I sincerely hope that what you two have right now will one day become real. Please try and forget about what your father did, though I know you cannot forgive him, and live the rest of your life free of the past. All that I want is for you to be happy. _

_Love, always, your mother_

The slip of paper fell from her hands and settled soundlessly on the floor. She barely registered the gloved hand that reached down to pick it up. Instead, she buried her face in her hands as she felt a sob tear loose from her body. She wasn't sure which was worse; the fact that her mother had died all alone, or the fact that her final attempt to truly make her mother happy had failed so miserably. Then the floodgates opened and she felt herself drowning.

Hours had passed before she stumbled out of her mother's room, and she suddenly realized that Volke was gone; she hadn't noticed him leave. He hadn't even collected the rest of his pay... Then her bleary eyes settled on something sitting on the table. It was a bag. Opening it up, she looked inside to see hundreds of gold coins. She didn't even have to read the quickly scrawled note that said: 'Keep it, I didn't get the job done' to know that it was the money she had originally given him. Or to know that he was gone, and that she would probably never see him again.

But what good had this money done for her? It hadn't bought her the cure for her mother's illness. It hadn't even bought her love. She didn't want it.

She swept the bag off the table and it toppled to the floor, the money scattering everywhere, tinkling like laughter.

* * *

Well, that wasn't _supposed_ to turn out so depressing. But then, it did... Oops? Anyway, I enjoyed writing this, but I don't know if it turned out well or not. Though it ended up being _way_ longer than I anticipated. I realize, as well, that the second half of the story probably passed rather fast, but I didn't particularly want to drag it on any longer and I kind of liked the detached effect (not trying to make excuses, I swear)... Also, I had an awkward time writing Heather, and I don't know if I kept her IC at all. I just kind of... wrote and went with it. I'm rather satisfied with how Volke came out, though, but... feedback is much appreciated.

--FireEdge--


End file.
